


We Got Friday Nights

by kissmelikeapirate



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 07:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10184321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmelikeapirate/pseuds/kissmelikeapirate
Summary: Best friends, they spend every Friday night together, watching movies and kicking back with a beer. But when is Friday nights no longer enough?





	

When your best friend is gorgeous, smart and one of the most decent people you’d ever met, it makes sense that people would think you were a couple. Of course every time this happened to Killian Jones and Emma Swan they’d laugh it off and say there was no chance that anything like that could ever happen.

They were friends - for almost five years - and they quite liked it that way.

Only _one_ time, she had seriously considered it.

They were in the middle of this health kick - running a few times a week after Emma had almost collapsed chasing a skip up a fire escape. Killian had offered to run with her - it wasn’t safe for her to be running around on her own, he’d said - she’d rolled her eyes and reminded him that she could take care of herself and that Storybrooke was hardly the crime capital of New England. He’d still insisted on joining her.

One Saturday he’d knocked on her apartment door, too early for the sun even to have peeked over the horizon. The park was deserted as they pounded the trails in companionable silence until it began to rain. A fine mist at first, it quickly graduated into a heavy downpour with large, freezing drops saturating them in seconds as they raced to the cover of the trees.

Killian laughed when she slipped in the mud, his hands coming up to her waist to halt her fall -  they were warm, even through her soaked t-shirt. He was close enough she could really appreciate those damn blue eyes of his that never saw him leave a bar without at least one phone number (wanted or not). His hair had fallen over those eyes. She’d told him a dozen times to cut it and he always just shrugged. Water dripped down those silky tendrils, drizzling across his cheek. Dazed, she’d stared at his perfect face.

For a second, she’d forgotten who he was ( _her best friend_ ) and why they’d never been more than that (she didn’t do relationships or men in general, he just didn’t do commitment). For a moment he was just a handsome, perfect guy who she was very attracted to… so she reached up and brushed away the rogue strands, her fingers sliding down his cheek, reluctant to break the contact. It was okay- just for _that_ moment - to let herself get lost in the smile he gave her and to imagine what it would be like to kiss those lips and for those hands to tighten at her waist and draw her close.

They’d hugged a thousand times. But that was different, because he was her friend and every hug they shared was devoid of that pulling tension she felt right then. Warmth radiated from him as the rain tumbled through the pine trees. She let herself daydream for a few perilous moments about a “them” - a dream of cozy dates and tangled limbs and kisses and-

Then, of course, reality kicked in. The rain vanished, the sun replacing it in the blink of an eye. He’d tugged on her shoulder, rousing her out of the dream as he asked her if she was ready to head back. She’d smiled and nodded, avoiding his gaze until her feet found that rhythm again on the mossy footpaths, each step pushing that idea further away.

* * *

“Emma, where is your damn bottle opener?”

“Hmm,” she called from the couch, flicking through Netflix like a pro, her feet propped up on the coffee table.

“That bloody bottle opener I got you for Christmas? The one that says ‘walk the plank’ when you use it?” Killian’s voice had gotten that high pitched tone that showed he was becoming exasperated. She smiled to herself and rolled her eyes.

“Oh, that.”

Emma shuffled to sit and then stood, yanking her oversized hoodie over the threadbare leggings that she refused to throw away. She located the missing item behind a stash of chocolate PopTarts above the fridge, handing it to him with a wry smile. “Only you would actually buy me a themed bottle opener.”

He grinned, holding up the pirate-ship shaped device. “You know what I say-”

“Yeah, yeah,” she nodded, just wanting to get back to browsing, “You’re a pirate.”

With a yawn, she ambled back to the couch, mourning the fact that her spot had gotten cold. She heard him fussing with their take out back in the kitchen.

“You know,” she said, “Just because you own a boat, it doesn’t make you a pirate. Or even a captain for that matter.”

If Emma Swan knew one thing, it was how to wind up Killian.

“I beg to differ, lass,” he retorted as he waltzed into the room with two bottles of beer and an open box of the best (and only) pizza the small town had to offer. “And for the millionth time, she’s a ship not a boat.”

Snatching a slice, the cheese singed her fingers as she gave him a grin. “And the difference is…”

With a sigh, he sank down beside her and deposited the bottles in his hand on the table alongside the box. “A boat is small enough to be carried aboard a larger vessel, and a vessel large enough to carry a smaller one is a ship.”

She chewed thoughtfully for a second, then turned and shrugged. “And here I was thinking size doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, love…” he drawled. As he spoke, he tried to wink and that just made Emma’s smile deepen. Killian had not once manage to wink correctly in all the time had known him and she found it hilarious.

“So then, time for more How to Get Away With Murder? I still don’t know who killed Wes-”

“No, you know this week it’s my turn to choose.”

“I could swear you did last week,” he replied, reaching over to try and grab the remote that she held out as far away as she could.

“You made me watch goddamn Rambo last week. This week, Emma chooses, next week it’s all yours babe.”

“Oh how I do love our banter,” he quipped as he kicked off his shoes and rested his feet on the table next to hers.

“Geez, you left Blighty almost ten years ago and you still use words like ‘banter’ - what’s next? Will you be eating some crisps later while wearing your jumper and planning your next ‘holiday’?”

“You wound me,” he replied with a mock frown. “But I know you love it.” And before she could react he had reached forward and taken a bite of her pizza.

“Hey!” she yelled. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

“I’d despair if you didn’t make me.”

He tried to wink and failed again.

Emma laughed.

* * *

The rom-com she had put on was cheesier than the takeout and predictable but she took more than enough pleasure knowing that it was his least favorite genre. They had this silly rivalry when it came to movie choices, each one trying to find something the other would hate. Movie night - Friday nights - was their thing. No matter what work churned out for either of them they always tried to keep their (platonic) date. Alternating between each other’s apartments, they’d binge on some Netflix, peruse the takeout menus that lived in each other’s kitchen drawers and generally just shoot the breeze over a beer (or a glass of rum after a particularly hard week). For as long as she could remember Friday nights were just their _thing._

The pizza had made her sleepy, her stomach was full and the beer had became bottle number two. The movie was half way through and her body had slouched to one side, resting against his, her head on his shoulder.

The heroine of the movie was currently mooning on about some guy she liked (who was totally wrong for her) to her best friend (who was totally right for her).

He shifted, sliding his arm around her until she was nestled against his chest. This was par the course for them; somehow they always ended up a little snuggled against each other and Emma wasn’t exactly complaining. Even if there was nothing romantic in it, it felt nice to be held by someone.

On the subject of romance, now was an apt time for her weekly update on Killian’s love life. “Any dates lined up?” she asked.

“You know my Fridays are given up to movie night.”

“There are six other nights in the week, Jones.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Nope. No dates.”

“You’re losing your touch,” she laughed.

He tapped his fingers against the bottle in his hand, his rings creating a little clink sound. “I’m not exactly in the frame of mind for meaningless fuckery right now.”

There was something about his tone that made Emma uneasy. There was a bite to his words that she just wasn’t used to. Normally when she teased him about his casual dating record he liked to peacock and exaggerate.

“It’s not like you’ve been on any dates either,” he added, giving her a quick glance before his focus returned to the tv.

“Yeah, well, you know my track record.”

“Not all men are utter bastards, Emma.”

“I know,” she sighed, “Still…”

She didn’t need to repeat again the reasons why she had pretty much given up dating. A childhood love who had set you up and gotten you sent to juvie combined with an ex-fiance who actually turned out to be married was not the most illustrious dating history. Fact was, she was scared of getting hurt again. She was pretty sure her heart couldn’t take it.

“I know Swan,” he murmured, his voice full of understanding. He may not have met either of those illustrious men, but she knew he understood how hurt she had been by them and he respected how that had affected her.

They both silently sipped their beers as the movie continued, his fingers finding their way to massaging her scalp (he was great at those) as he shifted to lift his legs onto the couch, making them almost parallel though her feet were still inches away from his. Soon the leading lady was crying into her coffee after said totally unsuitable guy had dumped her.

“Swan, have you ever-”

He paused, shaking his head at whatever he was thinking.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

She pushed herself up, bringing her knees under her body (silently thanking Killian for buying such a broad couch) so their faces were at the same height. She tilted her head and gave him an expectant glare.

He huffed a little before giving in. “Will was bleating on today at work about how ridiculous it is that we aren’t a couple. I tried explaining but you know what he’s like.”

Emma sure did know. Will, Killian’s co-worker at the marina, was just about the nosiest and most opinionated guy in town. And he had an opinion on _everything_.

“And he got me thinking about what that would look like.”

“What would?”

“Us, you and me.” He took a sip of his beer. “Have you ever… thought about it?”

“Oh-” she gasped, blushing a little, “I’ve never really, you know...” she shrugged, feeling the guilt of lying to him. _She never lied to Killian._

“I know, crazy idea. Can you imagine? I think we’d tear each other to pieces within a week.”

Emma chuckled, “Yeah, you’d be trying to make me drink prune juice with every meal.”

“And you’d be lecturing me even more than usual about keeping my hair a reasonable length.”

“And, as if I could put up with your five am alarms!”

“And you rolling in from work in the wee hours? Terrible.”

“And your obsession with pirates? That would get old pretty quick!”

“And I’d worry about you even more than I already do when you’re off chasing those criminals.”

“And I’d do the same when you’re out on that damn boat in all kinds of weather.”

“Ship,” he reminded her.  
“ _Ship_ ,” she repeated.

“Yeah,” she sighed, “Crazy idea all around.”

“That’s what I told him. The idea that Emma Swan and I could ever be a couple is just insane. I mean, hilarious really.”

He chortled a little as he supped further on his beer, shaking his head a few times for good measure as if to further punctuate the point that a relationship between them was just about the most outrageous idea he had ever heard.

Emma watched him, her stomach sinking a little as she did so, an anxious little knot suddenly forming within.

As she turned back to the television it was the moment that the girl - the movie’s darling - was finally kissing her dependable friend whom it had been obvious she would get with from the first minute. Watching the friends-come-lovers entwined mouths filling the screen made that anxious sensation grow even further.

An uncomfortable flush rose up her neck. She could not remember a time she had ever felt uncomfortable around her best friend but this moment was quickly becoming one, even though she was no longer lying against him it felt like even being a few inches apart was singing her skin. She needed some space.

“‘Excuse me,” she whispered, climbing over his legs and leaving the couch, heading for the relative safety of the bathroom and its lockable door.

Flipping down the lid of the toilet, she sat, planting her elbows on her knees and resting her face in her palms.

What had just happened? They had never, ever talked about them being anything more than friends. Not even after the dozens of times other people had assumed they were. Why was this time different?

Her phone pinged. She reached into the pocket of her hoodie. It was Killian.

_You alright?_

She tapped a message back.

_Yeah_

The three little dots told her he was writing a reply. It seemed to take him forever.

_Nothing to do with what we were talking about?_

She didn’t lie to Killian. (Except she just had.)

_Maybe?_

(Emma you are pathetic, she told herself.)

She heard the telltale padding of his feet along the corridor and she sucked in a breath.

“Emma?”

“Yeah?”

He hesitated a moment.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things weird, it’s just Will was going on and on and- look, I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

This was the moment that she should have just laughed off the whole conversation, went outside and watched the end of the movie. But maybe it was the two beers or maybe it was the movie-

Taking confident steps, she slid open the lock and yanked open the bathroom door. Killian was leaning against the wall opposite, his head down, his hands slung in his pocket- he looked dejected almost.

“I lied,” she announced in a much firmer voice than she had thought she could muster, ‘I have thought about it.”

His head sprang up, tilting a little to one side as he seemed to study her face, waiting for her to add something. Finally, he broke into a smile and took a step towards her.

“Oh thank god. So have I. Lots of times.”

_He had? Oh God, he had. He’d thought about it. She could see on his face that he had seriously considered being with her. And why hadn’t he said anything? But she knew why, she knew how clearly she had spoken of her desire to be alone. But this was Killian and it was different-_

Somehow, a dozen thoughts all formed simultaneously and made her head ache.

But then Emma being Emma, she had to go with the most negative ones.

“It’s just… I like our time together, the movie Fridays and the fact and can call you whenever I have a problem and the way you have of making me relax when I get anxious about stupid things and how you are my emergency contact and all the dumb pirate shit you buy me when you know I find it ridiculous and… you know.”

She shrugged, kinda pathetically, her shoulders then slumping, looking up at him, begging him to understand.

He responded by staring into her eyes. “We could have more than Friday nights, we could have every night. If you wanted. Whatever you wanted.”

Goddamn him he sounded so sincere that she would have swooned if she were the swooning type. He was offering her more, on her terms.

“I can’t lose you,” she whispered, looking down at his stockinged feet and seeing those pirate ship socks she’d bought him for Christmas. _She couldn’t lose him_ -

“Who said you would?” he asked.

In that moment, Emma could feel years of pain and torment as fresh as they had been on the day they first scarred her. Every sensation of loss and helplessness that a man had ever inflicted, washed over her even as a large part of her said, _but this is Killian. He is different._

“People hurt each other. Relationships end.”

“I would never hurt you Swan. I care about you more than you could ever understand.”

He sounded a little wounded that she would think he could.

Because she knew he couldn’t ever do anything to purposely cause her pain. And she knew that he was the most important person in her life. The person she could never do without.

“Oh, Killian, I-”

She stepped a little closer, reaching out her hand to place on his shoulder, just as he took that moment to sweep down and press upon her lips a kiss - a kiss so dazzling in its simplicity and perfection that all oxygen seemed to leave her body.

_He was kissing her._

And it felt every bit as good as she could ever have imagined. He kissed like he moved, graceful and with purpose, his lips chasing after hers, making her a little giddy and lightheaded.

Pulling away, she took a quick breath, before wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing him against the wall behind him. All those worries and doubts from a few moments earlier were erased as she finally understood what people meant when they said something just felt _right_.

_Like the way his hands fit at her waist._

_Like the taste of beer on his warm tongue._

_Like the perfect synchrony with which they wrapped themselves around each other like they had been doing this for years._ (Though in some ways they had.)

“I won’t hurt you Emma,” he whispered against her lips as her fingers tangled in his hair.

“I know,” she replied, before pulling him in for another kiss.

* * *

It was already light but she had no intention of moving from where she currently lay, her head resting against Killian Jones’ bare chest, her fingers trailing over the smattering of hair that covered it as he drew circles over her hip.

“Well Swan, looks like you already have Saturday mornings.”

He grinned at her. The same as always but just _different._

She chased after his lips with a yearning kiss, sliding her leg over his hips and feeling all the nice kinds of aches that their evening had provided.

“How about all of Saturday too?”

“As you wish, milady.”

 

A/N: If you liked it a review is always appreciated


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